No Girls Allowed
by livel4015.6313
Summary: A rapist is luring young boys in to the woods. After raping his victims he then beats them and leaves them for dead. Can the detectives in the Special Victims Unit catch the ‘Central Park Rapist’ before he succeeds in killing a victim?
1. The Chosen One

**1. The Chosen One**

**Central Park  
New York, New York  
Thursday, August 13, 2009 – 11:15 a.m.**  
Fate.

Fate brought him here. Fate made him what he is.

Down a long over-grown path there's a small clearing in the middle of the woods – if you can call the large gathering of trees in Central Park woods. It's secluded and quiet. The exact reasons he chose this spot for his "secret" hideout.

Today, he set out to finish his work on his newest project. As it turns out, it is the day his _new_ plan would come to fruition. There had been others, but this one…this one was the chosen one.

Robbie Baker.

Earlier, opportunity knocked when he saw the boy aimlessly wandering in the park…alone. It was as if Erebus, Darkness himself, swooped in and engulfed everything in black except the small child. After telling Robbie of a super secret clubhouse, he was able to lure the little six-year-old away. Moments later they arrived at the small fortress built in a large red oak tree.

Watching as the boy climbs up the eleven thick rungs of the makeshift ladder, a sinister smile cuts across the stranger's face. Once Robbie reaches the landing at the top of the ladder, he stares at the simply painted sign in awe. The little boy runs his fingers over the uneven red paint strokes that form the coveted words.

"No Girls Allowed."

**SVU Squad Room  
Manhattan, New York**  
**1:38 p.m.**

"I need to speak to someone!" A short brunette woman screams as she hysterically runs into the station. "Help! Someone _help_!" She pivots in a tight circle as her eyes search frantically for someone who will pay attention.

"Can I help you with something, ma'am?" A strong but gentle voice asks from a few feet away.

Detective Elliot Stabler stands up from his desk and walks purposefully over to the frenzied woman. He places his hand on her shoulder to bring her back from wherever she is in her panicked mind.

"Yes. Please. My little boy," she says breathlessly shoving a weathered picture of a blonde haired boy with sparkling eyes and brilliant smile into the detective's hand. "My little boy is missing."

"How long has it been since you last saw him?" Elliot asks and guides the panic-stricken woman to the chair beside his desk.

"Two…two hours." She looks up at him as her green eyes spurt tears. "We…we were in the park. And he went off with a friend. They were going to the playground. I was only a few paces behind them. I…I heard a noise and turned my head for just a second. When I turned back around he…he was gone!"

"Have you contacted Missing Persons, Mrs. -"

"Baker. Virginia Baker. I haven't…I came right here. I heard on the news," she says quickly and erratically as the tears continue to gush from her eyes, "I heard on the news that there's…there's a pedophile on the loose. That he's attacking in Central Park. That he's attacking young boys like my Robbie!" She buries her head in her hands and cries. "I don't want Robbie to be…I…"

"Okay, Mrs. Baker, let me get a description of Robbie and his last known whereabouts and we'll start a search immediately."

"Okay," she responds and visibly begins to calm.

"First I have to ask you some questions, okay?" Elliot asks soothingly. Once Virginia nods her head he continues. "Did you see anyone else in the area? Or did you see anything suspicious?"

"No, no one was around. There was nothing out of the ordinary."

Elliot makes a note in his notebook then looks up to the woman again. "Did you see what had caused the noise that stole your attention?"

"When I turned my head I didn't see anything so I just figured it was an animal moving in the bushes."

"Okay, you said Robbie's friend was there?"

"Yes, Owen. Owen Jameson."

"Where is Owen now?"

"I called his mother. She came to get him and helped me search the area for Robbie. There…there was no sign of him. It's like he vanished into thin air."

"Okay," Elliot says and looks sympathetically at her. "We're going to need to speak to Owen to see if he saw or heard anything."

She nods her head emphatically. "Here is his information," Virginia says and hands Elliot an index card with an address and phone number.

"Alright, Mrs. Baker, now tell me what Robbie was wearing and where you last saw him."

Virginia takes a large gulp of air and looks at the detective with the kind blue eyes. She describes Robbie's clothing – his favorite blue and red striped t-shirt with the baseball patch, his faded blue jean shorts, his little Nike sneakers with the silver swoosh and the light yellow spring jacket – the jacket that had caused a temper tantrum earlier in the day. Because, according to the six-year-old's logic it was clearly too hot for a jacket. Virginia continues to describe Robbie's light blonde hair, his brown eyes, his slightly underdeveloped height and even the irregular scar on his right thigh – a result from the Evil Knieval-like bike stunt performed last summer.

"Is this the most recent picture you have of your son, Mrs. Baker?" Elliot asks holding up the worn photograph that was shoved in his hand earlier.

"Yes," she says nodding her head. "It was taken a few months ago at the beach."

Elliot nods kindly then turns in his seat.

"Officer Garcia," he says motioning a young officer over to him. "Take this and put an Amber Alert out on Robbie Baker, age six, immediately."

Elliot rips the page of notes out of his notebook and hands it along with the picture to the officer.

"Yes sir," Officer Garcia says before she walks swiftly away.

Elliot watches her leave then turns back to the woman sitting beside his desk. "Mrs. Baker, can I get you something to drink? Water? Coffee? Tea?"

"No. No thank you. I just want my son back," she says scared.

"We'll do our best, ma'am. If you'll excuse me, I would like to talk to my captain about your son."

Virginia nods then clasps her hands together. She bows her head and begins to pray.

**Captain Cragen's Office  
Manhattan, New York**  
**2:16 p.m.**

"Cap," Elliot says while knocking on the door. "Gotta sec?"

Captain Cragen motions with his hand for Elliot to come in as he speaks into the telephone. A few seconds later he hangs up the receiver and turns to address his detective.

"Detective, what can I do for you?" Cragen asks and looks up at Elliot.

"Missing kid."

"Central Park?" Cragen asks with a grave look on his face.

Elliot nods his head.

"How long?"

"A little more than two hours."

Cragen sighs sadly and rubs his jaw with his hand. "Take Fin and canvas the area with some uniforms."

"There's a friend. He was with the boy right before he disappeared."

"Have an address?"

"Right here, sir," Elliot says and hands Cragen the index card.

Cragen takes the card and carefully considers it. "Okay. I'll have Munch talk to him." The over-worked captain takes a deep breath then returns his gaze to his detective. "Call me with updates," he states and hands the card back. With nothing left to say, he bends his head to the open file on his desk.

Elliot doesn't move from his spot. He sways slightly from foot to foot. As he narrows his eyes and clenches his jaw he tries to make the words form on his lips. After sucking his lips into his mouth a few times he takes a large breath.

"Sir?"

Cragen's eyes lift to his detective.

"Liv…Liv is going to want to be a part of this. It's…it's her case," Elliot says looking at his captain with a look of worry and concern.

"Don't worry about Benson, Stabler."

"But sir," Elliot starts to argue.

"You have your orders, detective," Cragen says with an air of finality.

Elliot nods his head in acceptance but both men know that he is far from it.

**Central Park  
New York, New York  
11:48 a.m.**

The little boy smells like grape bubble gum, freshly mowed grass and the slightest sweet scent of perspiration the shadowy figure thinks to himself. Standing in the corner, he stares with unflinching eyes and tracks the young boy's movements.

Robbie Baker walks around the clubhouse in awe of all the collected trinkets. He picks up the rocks that look like arrowheads, the small figurines of dark ominous figures, the carved pieces of wood in the shape of daggers. He smiles as he runs his fingers over the treasures before carefully setting them down in their designated place.

The stranger leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest as he licks his lips.

"Did you build this all by yourself?" Robbie asks turning his head slightly.

"I did," comes the response through a sickly sneer.

"This is cool. I wish I had one."

"Well you know I am building another. Would you like to help?"

The little boy widens his brown eyes and a smile emerges on his face.

"Come on, let's go now," the shadowy figure continues.

"I hafta tell my mom."

"Don't worry about your mom. I'll tell her."

The little boy furrows his brow and looks at the stranger. Something should have clicked in his head. Something should have warned him of the imminent danger. Something should have told him that he was supposed to tell his mom before wandering into the woods alone. But he barely sees or thinks any of this. He is too excited about building a new tree house to worry about all the signs his mom had warned him about.

"I'll get in trouble," Robbie says with a slight hesitation as the logic in his six-year-old mind prevails.

The stranger looks at the little boy for a brief moment. He can tell Robbie desperately wants to help. The conflict is etched across his small face. Robbie is desperate to belong to a secret club but is equally concerned about the punishment his mother could bestow upon him.

"You won't. Don't you trust me?" The stranger asks in a menacing singsong voice.

Robbie creases his forehead and ignores the heavy beating in his young chest. He nods slowly and follows the tall individual out of the tree house and down the ladder.

**SVU Squad Room  
Manhattan, New York**

**2:28 p.m.**

"Munch, got something for you," Elliot says as he exits then closes the door to Cragen's office. "We've got a missing kid, Robbie Baker. Went missing about two and a half hours ago in Central Park. Owen Jameson, age seven, was with our victim right before he disappeared. Cragen wants you to speak with him."

Elliot flips the index card in his fingers then extends his hand to Munch. Munch takes the card and reads over the few lines of text then returns his eyes to Elliot.

Elliot pauses and lowers his voice. "The mother," he says motioning to Mrs. Baker.

Munch nods his head.

"Fin and I are going to canvas the park with a few unis to see what we can find." Elliot looks to the older man and watches as a perplexed look forms on his face.

"What about Liv?" The willowy sergeant asks.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Elliot only gives Munch a sad look full of unanswered questions. Munch nods his head understandingly. Elliot knows nothing beyond the rest of them about their coworker's mysterious absence for the past two days. They each give the other another sympathetic look then walk in opposite directions.

"Mrs. Baker, I'm Sergeant Munch," he says approaching the still praying woman. "Would you like a ride home, ma'am?"

"Yes. Yes please. That would be very nice," she responds. "Thank you for your help, detective," she says turning her head to the approaching man.

"We'll do our best to find him, Mrs. Baker," Elliot says offering her a look of hope.

Virginia nods and starts to stand shakily. Munch quickly reaches for her arm and grasps it to keep her from toppling back into the chair. She looks up into his eyes and tries to give him a small smile of appreciation. He nods his head then they walk to the elevator.

Elliot wipes his hands down his tense face then stretches it by opening his eyes and mouth widely. Once it is sufficiently pliable again, he turns around to look for Fin.

"Where's everybody?" Fin's voice questions from behind him.

"Case," Elliot responds. "We've got another missing kid in Central Park. Cap wants you and me to go canvas the area where he was last seen with some unis. Munch is talking to the kid's friend who was with him right before he disappeared."

Fin takes a breath then turns on his heel. Elliot slowly follows him to the elevator.

**Benson Residence**

**Manhattan, New York**

**8:45 p.m.**

Three short but firm raps on the door alert her to the fact that her hopefully solitary evening would not remain so. The interruption irritates her even if she has been waiting for it for six hours.

She had heard the news broadcast earlier in the day. Robbie Baker, age six – missing. Last seen in Central Park. Her heart sank when she heard the overly pronounced desk jockey's voice say the words she longed to never hear again.

'_Suspected kidnapping of the Central Park Rapist.'_

His picture flashed up on the screen and her heart knotted itself when she saw the smiling young boy in his bright red bathing suit. His shining brown eyes haunted her, even through the pixilated television screen.

Sitting up on the couch, she tightly grasped her cell phone waiting for the call. But one never came. Hours later she had finally given up and placed the worthless plastic lump on her end table. It stayed there – forgotten – until two hours ago when the call she had been expecting earlier in the day disrupted her self-imposed confinement.

She ignored it. No longer wanting to hear the gory details.

It still sits blinking on the table, notifying her of the five missed calls and countless text messages. Her heart is too mangled to pick it up and listen to the messages or read the lines of text that surely contain sad facts or words of concern. She doesn't want his pity.

_Knock, knock, knock._

There's a long pause and she thinks he may have given up and left.

_SLAP_.

An open hand violently hits her door. She jumps.

"Olivia!"

Her heart knots itself again with the sound of his desperate voice.

"Olivia, I know you're in there just open the door."

She makes no move to get up and she knows that he is expecting this act of avoidance. If he wants her, he has to come and get her.

"I'm gonna use my key, Liv. So if you're not decent you better say something _now_."

He waits. Slowly, he counts to ten. It's their silent sign of obligatory boundaries. Always wait ten seconds.

"Okay, I'm coming in."

He inserts the jagged piece of metal into its place in the doorknob and twists slowly. The door creaks as he pushes it open.

As he steps into the apartment he is immediately slapped in the face with stale, warm air. Olivia's apartment is always overly warm but this is a new level of discomfort. Almost like she's trying to sweat out the pain.

"Geez, Liv."

He moves to turn on the light to his left. Before he flips the switch he looks to her as if asking permission. She looks away and wraps the blanket tighter around herself. As the light illuminates the room he can almost see the haze of anguish forming in the humid air.

"How long you been sitting like this?" He asks concerned and walks up to her couch.

She looks down at her hands and shrugs her shoulders.

"Have you eaten anything?"

Elliot looks around the apartment for signs of food or dirty dishes or wrappers. Nothing. Then his eyes fall on the bottle. It sits on the coffee table, bathed in the fuzzy heat-saturated light.

"Have you been drinking?" He receives no response or indication that she's heard him. The slow count to ten resumes.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. _

"Liv," he says forcefully.

Her eyes lift to his. "No," she says hoarsely. Her voice is full of emotion, even in just one syllable he can tell she's heard about Robbie.

"Then what's this?" He asks picking up the bottle of gin. "Olivia," he says firmly, forcing her to look at him again.

"It's…it's nothing."

"Nothing," he says lowly.

"Yeah, nothing."

"Olivia," he chastises.

"It's a reminder," she says quickly.

"A reminder?"

"Yeah," she replies distantly.

He waits patiently for her to explain.

"It…_this_," she says taking the bottle from him and stares at it. "This was my mother's." Her body jerks in a sad sort of laugh.

"Liv, why did you keep this?" He asks bewildered at why she would hold on to a bottle of liquor for eight years.

"A reminder," she states again. "It's a reminder that…that it's never as bad as you think. So I keep it in the back of my cabinet to remember that I'm not her. To remember that I'm strong enough not run away from my problems, that I can get through tough times without a crutch."

"So you're sitting here, in the dark staring at a half full bottle of gin to remind yourself to not run away?" He has half a mind to laugh at the irony.

"Half empty," she says flatly.

"What?"

"It's not half full, it's half empty."

His heart hangs heavily in his chest hearing her defeated voice. "What's the difference? How does it help to look at it as half empty?"

"Because…because it will never be full again. It's half empty." She shrugs, looks off to the side and away from the bottle.

"Liv -"

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't call you two days ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I was -"

"Running away?" He asks with a smirk.

She sighs roughly then runs her hand down her face.

"You keep this around," he says taking the bottle back from her, "you keep this to remind yourself not to run away from your problems like she did, but that is exactly what you're doing, Olivia."

She bends her head down to stare at her hands again.

"You think it's stupid that I've kept it around."

"I guess I just don't get why you would," he says confused at her logic.

"Why?"

"Because her drinking is a painful memory. Why would you want to keep that around?"

"What else was I supposed to do?" She asks looking up at him. "What else do I have to remember her?"

Elliot sighs sadly and rubs his forehead. "Olivia, you're stronger than this. You're better than this. Don't do this. Don't second guess yourself."

"Second guess myself?!" She snaps jumping to her feet.

The blanket falls away to expose her barely clad body. Elliot jerks in his seat, wanting not to stare, wanting to grab the blanket and cover her. She already seems too fragile…too vulnerable.

"There's three boys out there with enough emotional scarring from this asshole to never function normally again! One of them is in the hospital and may never wake up. And now another boy is missing! How can I not second guess myself, Elliot?"

Elliot stands up and gently places his hands on her shoulders. "Liv, none of that is your fault."

"But I should be able to find this guy and stop him. We have no clues as to who he is. We know _nothing_. And while we're sitting at our desks spinning our wheels, he's out there luring away more boys. How long until he kills one of them?"

She runs her hands through her hair and spins around.

"Liv. Come back. You can do this; you can find this guy. Those little boys need you. We need you. I need you. I need to know you're going to be there."

"What happened?" She asks sensing that tonight he needs her as much as she needs him.

"We searched the area where he was last seen."

"What did you find?"

"Not much."

"Anything?"

"Some footprints. No sign that he was forced."

Olivia takes in a large breath and shakes her head. "Same as every time before. Trail go cold before you found anything else?" She asks with dull eyes.

"Yup. Not even a piece of lint. But the scene was compromised. The mother, the kid's friend and the friend's mother all searched the area for an hour or so before coming to us. So if there was any evidence it may have been disturbed or ruined by them."

"Damn," she utters quietly. She bites her lip and shakes her head again.

"You going to come back?"

She hesitates slightly and weighs her options. "Yeah," she says after she rubs her mouth with her hand.

"Can you promise me something?"

She looks at him but doesn't say a word. Her eyes lift and fall as if nodding at him.

"Can you promise me that one day we can pour this out?" He says picking up the bottle of gin again. "Please?" He pleads as she starts to resist.

She nods and inhales.

"Okay." He nods his head as he spins the bottle in his hands. "Okay," he states again.

"Do you need to talk about it?" She asks sensing his resistance to leave.

"I just…this kid. He..."

"Reminds you of Eli," she finishes for him.

Elliot's eyes shoot up to hers. "Yeah," he says. "How -"

"I saw his picture on the news. Could be Eli in a few years."

"It's scary to think about."

"Yeah."

A few moments pass. Neither make a motion to move or speak.

"Well I should get out of your hair," he says standing.

"You," she says almost too quickly. "You don't have to go."

They look at one another, each sensing the desperation in the other to not be alone. He nods his head and sits back down. Not another word is spoken but each feel the comfort wash over them as the minutes tick by.

*~~~~~*


	2. Big League Chew

**2. Big League Chew**

**SVU Squad Room**

**Manhattan, New York**

**Friday, August 14, 2009 – 8:13 a.m.**

Captain Cragen anxiously paces the bullpen, exhibiting his stress in familiar channels. Hands deep in his pockets, lines of worry on his forehead, toothpick in his mouth. After a few passes, he turns toward his detectives. "Do we have _anything_, people?"

"No sir," Fin responds. "Elliot and I didn't find a _damn _thing at the park." He throws down a map with symbols drawn on various spots in the park.

"And the friend?" Cragen spins to face Munch.

"Didn't see a thing," Munch says while leaning back in his chair. He steeples his fingers and continues to relay his findings, "Owen said he and Robbie were racing to the playground. Owen tripped and fell but Robbie kept going. When Owen should have caught up, Robbie was nowhere to be seen."

While everyone listens intently to Munch, Elliot's eyes shift from his pacing captain to his partner. After watching her for several minutes, he concludes that she's too quiet. She sits at her desk, like she has all morning, staring at the linoleum through squinted eyes. He can tell she's lost in another world, presumably Robbie's.

His morning has been spent trying to bring her up to speed on the case, hoping it will spark her fire. Hoping it will bring the Olivia he's come to know and love back from this dark place of doubt. Silently he calls to her, trying to get her attention. He tries to get her to look at him. But her only movements are the rising and falling of her shoulders as she takes slow breaths.

This new Olivia has him worried. He'd never known she kept her mother's bottle of gin; he'd never known she sat in a dark apartment staring at it.

He's never seen her quite this quiet.

"What's our next move?" Cragen's booming voice pulsates through the bustling squad room.

"I want to go back to the park," Olivia says softly to the floor.

Four heads snap to her. Her first statement of the day resonates heavily with powerful emotion.

"Liv," Elliot says gently to her. "Fin and I checked the park. There was nothing. Just like all the others."

"I want to go back," she states quietly but resolutely. "I have a feeling. I just…there's something. There's something we missed," she says. As she thinks her eyes shift from side to side.

Each man reads the meaning behind her words. They share a barrage of concerned looks then all eyes fall on Elliot. He moves his body in a gesture of equal confusion. Cragen takes a sharp breath then stares off to the side and nods his head once. He exhales slowly through his nose. As he removes the toothpick he opens his mouth.

"Fine. Benson, Stabler go back to the park," he says gruffly. He doesn't see the point of revisiting the park, but at this point they have nothing to lose. "Re-canvas the area and keep me posted. Munch, Fin I want you to visit the previous victims. See if they can remember anything."

Cragen shifts his eyes around the room, letting them fall on each detective for a few seconds before moving to the next. He nods his head again, sticks the toothpick back in his mouth and walks assertively back to his office.

**Outside of the 16th Precinct**

**9:19 a.m.**

"Liv," Elliot utters as he climbs in to the driver's side of the sedan. "What are you expecting to find?"

"I don't know, El. I just have a feeling. There's something there this time. I can feel it."

She doesn't look at him when she speaks. Her eyes stay glued to the window and her arms wrap tightly around her body. His immediate reaction to her position is to place his hand on her shoulder. To calm her anxious nerves. To comfort her. To show her his support. But he resists since their friendship had never been one for reassuring gestures.

Before he starts the car he turns in his seat to face her. "Liv are you okay?" He asks her again.

"I'm fine, Elliot," she responds softly for the fifth time, not including when she pre-empted his question first thing this morning. She grits her teeth and breathes heavily in annoyance.

He tightens his jaw and accepts her answer, not really given another choice.

**Central Park – North End**

**New York, New York**

**10:06 a.m.**

The sedan is barely parked before Olivia has her door open and one foot on the pavement. Once she has fully extracted herself from the car she straightens her back, sets her shoulders and starts walking toward the park without a word.

As she walks her pace quickens. She is desperate to find something this time. Distance fades as she takes determined step after determined step. She moves swiftly toward the spot marked on the map. After a few minutes of not hearing her partner's steps behind her, she slows giving him the opportunity to catch her.

Several feet later she's standing off the path in the part of the park known as The Ravine. Ninety acres of woodland in the upper park; home to many of the park's 26,000 trees; possible final resting place of Robbie Baker. Olivia scans the area from left to right trying to get her bearings.

A few moments later Elliot closes the distance and steps up beside her. They stand side-by-side breathing in the summer air, watching as the light filters through the trees and hearing the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. She looks to her right and peers into his eyes briefly before turning to face forward again. After sweeping her eyes over the serene landscape a few more times, she breathes in and starts walking northeast.

She dodges fallen trees and large masses of rocks. Her neck cranes as she tries to peer through the thick brush. Insects dive and dart around her head as she ducks low branches and spider webs. She stalks further and further in to the woods, hoping for a clue.

Several minutes later her eyes catch something red, fluttering in the light breeze. "Elliot!" Olivia turns on her heel looking for her partner.

"What'd you find?" He asks running up to her.

"Look," she says holding up a small piece of fabric. "Wasn't Robbie was wearing a blue and red striped shirt when he went missing?"

"Yeah," Elliot says with wide eyes. "This wasn't here yesterday." He looks at Olivia shocked. His eyes swear to her that it wasn't there, that he and Fin didn't miss it – that he and Fin didn't let her or Robbie down.

"What's this?" Olivia asks, stretching the fabric between her latex covered fingers. "Blood?" She looks at the light blue stained with red and turns to Elliot with a frightened look.

Elliot narrows his eyes and touches the fabric. "Too light. Maybe juice," he says as he leans in to sniff the piece of shirt.

Looking at him through a scowl, Olivia tries to make sense of the clue. "Juice?"

"His mom didn't mention any stains." He looks up and shakes his head. "Maybe it's from the perp?"

"No," Olivia whispers lowly, truths soaking her tone.

"He plans it all out," Elliot states instead of questions. They both know this is the most probable scenario.

"_Shit_," she groans. Her frustration knots like her hair as she tries to run her fingers through the long strands.

"Should we see if there's any DNA? Maybe there's a hair or something," Elliot suggests while continuing to scrutinize the swatch of fabric. "Munch mentioned getting a toothbrush from the mother when he dropped her off yesterday."

Olivia stares at the piece of cloth, her mind trying to catch up with the implications the clue holds. "Can we look a little further down?" She asks, almost pleading with him.

He is about to argue when a voice in his head stops him. Elliot absorbs the look on her face then nods his head. Before she turns to move ahead, he takes the piece of torn shirt and places it in an evidence bag.

**Central Park**

**New York, New York**

**Thursday, August 13, 2009 – 4:30 p.m.**

"I'm still thirsty," Robbie says wearily as he steps over a large fallen tree.

"I don't have any more juice until we get there, Robbie," the lanky figure says as he starts to lose a little patience with the small boy's complaining. "What happened to the juice I gave you?"

"I spilled it."

Robbie looks down at his shirt. The red stain starts at his chest and runs down the front of his shirt until a large tear interrupts it. After running into a jagged branch earlier, he lost the well-fought battle. The branch's prize – a piece of his shirt.

The stranger rolls his eyes and continues to hike further along the unmarked, unkempt trail. A few minutes later he stops, no longer hearing the shuffling behind him. As he turns around he sees the little boy is nowhere to be seen.

"Robbie?" He asks with slight panic in his voice. After a few seconds of no response he begins to retrace his steps. "Robbie," he calls more insistently.

"Yeah?" The little boy peeks his head out from around a tree.

"What are you doing?" He asks as he watches the little boy crouch down to pick up small purple strands dispersed among the dirt and fallen leaves.

"I dropped it," Robbie says picking up a handful. He dusts off some of the dirt then jams it in his pocket. "Want some?" Robbie offers the next handful to the tall figure.

"No," the stranger says disgusted.

"You can have some that didn't fall on the ground," the little boy says and hands the stranger a small package.

The tall form leans down and takes the waxy, foil lined paper pouch and opens it. As he reaches in, he pinches a bunch of the purple strands then shoves them in his mouth. After chewing for a few seconds he hands the pouch back to Robbie who smiles triumphantly. Once the package is folded in half, he stuffs it in his back pocket.

"Look we need to hurry, Robbie, or we're going to run out of daylight. Plus once we get there I have a surprise for you."

At the mention of a surprise, Robbie drops his handful and wipes his dirty hand down his shorts. He smiles widely then stands up. Quickly he walks in the direction the stranger had traveled moments before. As the detached figure straightens up hesmirks. After his hand wipes down his face and erases the evil look he trots gently to catch up with the little boy.

**Central Park**

**New York, New York**

**Friday, August 14, 2009 – 10:18 a.m.**

Olivia's breaths quicken as she crouches down to a small mound of dirt. "El! I've got something!" She picks up some of the purple slivers, careful not to disturb the surrounding earth. As she holds them close to her face, she inspects them.

"Whatcha got?" Elliot asks weaving around trees and foliage to get to her.

"I don't know. What do you make of this?" She asks and lifts her hand to his face.

Elliot bends and squints at the strings of purple. He breathes in the almost sacchariny sweet smell. A knowing grin spreads on his face.

"Big League Chew," he states smiling.

"What?" Olivia asks.

"It's bubble gum. It's supposed to emulate chewing tobacco. It even comes in this pouch with a baseball player on the front. My kids love it."

"Great," Olivia says rolling her eyes. "What a _fantastic_ message to send to kids."

Elliot shakes his head at her, not understanding how she didn't get the ingenious concept of it. "No this fits, Liv," he says excitedly. "Robbie loves baseball. He _would_ be carrying around Big League Chew. This has to be his."

"Got a bag?" Olivia asks looking up at her overly proud partner.

Elliot reaches into his jacket and removes an evidence bag then hands it to her. She takes it, places all the remaining pieces of Big League Chew in the bag. Then she adds some of the surrounding dirt and leaves and seals it. After handing the bag back to Elliot, she dusts off her gloved hands by swiping them against each other.

"What do you think happened?" She asks him.

"I dunno. Think he dropped it? Or do you think it was forcibly knocked away or taken from him?"

Olivia stands up and pans the area. She places one hand on her hip and shields the stabbing rays of sun from her eyes with the other.

"I don't see the package," she states. "And it looks like he was trying to pick it up." Olivia points to the small trenches dug in the mound of dirt and leaves. "I wonder what made him not finish," she thinks out loud. After pondering it for a moment she starts walking with a contemplative look in her eyes.

Elliot remains in the spot continuing to look around the area for more clues. After not seeing anything of value he starts trudging after his determined partner.

**Central Park**

**New York, New York**

**Thursday, August 13, 2009 – 5:11 p.m.**

"I'm tired," Robbie whines as he drags his feet in the dirt.

"Robbie, I told you. We're almost there. I thought you wanted to be part of this," the stranger barks tersely.

"I just wanna go home. I want my mom." Robbie stops and stamps his foot on the path. He yawns for the sixth time in the last ten minutes then clutches his stomach. "My tummy hurts."

"Just a little farther. I promise."

The little boy puffs out a breath and silently starts moving forward. Within fifteen minutes they've reached another massive tree also outfitted with a modest structure. But this one is only half complete.

"What do you think?" The stranger asks while looking up at his secret hideout.

"_Wow_." Robbie gazes openmouthed at the tree and drops his arm to the side.

"You ready to help me finish it?"

"Yeah!" Robbie exclaims enthusiastically.

As they climb up the ladder, the stranger's eyes narrow and he tries to contain his sneer. Once they've reached the top, Robbie takes a minute to look around. The stranger walks along the far wall and retrieves something off a small table. When the mesmerized boy turns he is handed a rubber block and a piece of sandpaper.

A sickening smile emerges on the stranger's dry lips as he leads the eager little boy over to a small workbench. He tells Robbie to sand the multiple pieces of wood until they are smooth. Robbie nods his head excitedly. Immediately, he starts to work. Once he's satisfied the young boy was occupied, the slithery figure begins working on his own small projects.

After an hour of silent work, the still nameless man turns to Robbie with a smile. He watches intently for a few minutes. As if feeling the coldness from the man's dark eyes, Robbie looks up to see the stranger staring at him.

"How are you doing, Robbie? Almost done?"

Robbie glances toward the unfinished stack of wood then looks back offering no response. The stranger slithers over to Robbie and sees that the little boy has completed about half of the pile. He takes one off the finished pile and holds it close to his face to study it.

"Very good."

Robbie smiles widely at the praise.

The tall figure motions for Robbie to come closer to him. When Robbie is within an arm's length, the stranger slides his hand down the side of his leg. His hand tightens around the cold metal head of the hammer that always hangs from his carpenter jeans. Swiftly the stranger lifts the tool from the loop and brings it to the boy's face. He flips it in his hand, offering Robbie the wooden handle.

"Nail this in here," the tall figure says and points.

The small boy takes the offering and smiles again. Once all the sanded boards are nailed in place the stranger turns to the young boy.

"Are you ready for a break?"

The response comes in the form of a large yawn and lethargic nod of the head.

"Good, then you can have your surprise." His mouth lifts into a satisfied smile.

**Central Park**

**New York, New York**

**Friday, August 14, 2009 – 5:32 p.m.**

As Elliot takes a step he slips on a slick patch of leaves for the tenth time. His eyes turn toward the sky. He searches for the clear blue through the canopy of trees. "Liv, we're going to lose daylight."

"Sunset is around eight, we have plenty of time," Olivia responds looking at her watch.

"We've been out here since ten this morning, Liv."

"If you want to give up, fine. I'll catch a cab back to the house."

"Olivia, I'm not leaving you out here by yourself when there's a rapist on the loose."

"I'm a grown woman. I'm not a civilian; I can take care of myself, Elliot." She huffs loudly and continues scouring for clues on the forest floor.

Elliot smiles at her wording. He's heard that from her before, more times than he's willing to admit.

As he watches her lose her footing slightly, his frustration resurfaces. "Olivia. This is ridiculous. Let's get the clues we _do_ have to the lab. Maybe the perp's in the system. We've been spinning our wheels for hours. Let's just call it a day."

Olivia spins to him so fast she almost slips. "Do you think Virginia Baker can just call it a day? Do you think Robbie can just call it a day?" She spits at him outraged. "What if it was Eli who was missing, Elliot? Would you want the detectives to just 'call it a day' because they hadn't found anything in a few hours? Or would you want them to keep going? Especially when they had a few clues and there was promise of a few more. This is more evidence than we've had in the other three cases combined."

"Geez Liv," he says and runs his hand over his head. "We've been out here for over seven hours with only two clues. I know you want to catch this guy. I do too. Believe me, if it were my kid I would want the detectives out here combing every part of the woods but we're not making any progress. We're only two people."

"Just a little longer. Please?" Her eyes beg and plead with him. She needs to find something to link someone to these heinous crimes – she needs it like her own life depends on it.

"Fine. Forty-five more minutes. But if Kathy calls screaming about it I'm handing you the phone."

Olivia stops in her tracks. The rigidity in her back causes her to stand straighter. "Crap," she says and turns to him. "You weren't supposed to be spending time with the kids tonight were you?"

"No."

She breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay good," she says releasing her clenched heart.

They separate once again. Each in pursuit of anything that will help them stop this animal from preying upon another young boy. After a while Elliot stops and wipes the sweat from his brow. He glances down at his watch to see that thirty-eight minutes have elapsed since they last spoke. Thirty-eight minutes of nothing but frustrated prayers. Prayers asking for a clue or a footprint or something. He is about to call Olivia and convince her to give up for the night when a small object catches his eye.

"Olivia!" He hears the cracking of a stick and the sound of leaves scraping against the ground as she stops and turns toward him. "Olivia! I found something."

Her feet carry her to him rapidly. When she is within a foot of him, she slows trying to catch her breath.

"What does this look like to you?" Elliot asks holding up a purple mass caught between his fingers.

Olivia's eyes open widely and a small smile plays on her lips. "A wad of Big League Chew."

"What are the odds it's the perp's?" He proposes as he smiles back at her.

Her heart races in her chest. She hopes this is the break for which they were waiting. Elliot reaches for the inside pocket of his jacket his left hand and awkwardly tries to retrieve an evidence bag. After a few failed attempts he looks to his partner.

She rolls her eyes and steps closer to him. Once she's a few inches from him she leans in, grasps the left side of his suit jacket and reaches in the pocket. As she withdraws her hand it grazes his chest slightly. The contact causes him to jump and his heart to beat a little faster. He holds his breath and looks at her. She smiles, hands him the bag then steps slowly away.

After he's secured the evidence he looks back at her and has to smirk when he notices her light blush. Her reaction is unusual. But so was his. He smiles at both. A few embarrassed moments later Olivia takes a deep breath and bounces on her toes.

"Want to get this stuff to the lab?" He asks anxiously.

"Yeah. Alright, let's get them back to the lab," she agrees with an ounce of hope growing in her chest.

**Central Park**

**New York, New York**

**Thursday, August 13, 2009 – 8:33 p.m.**

He cries.

He cries in pain. He cries for his mother.

It's been two hours, three minutes and eleven seconds since Robbie should have had his dinner. Now, instead of finishing up his bath or watching The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack on the Cartoon Network Robbie Baker sits huddled in the corner trembling. His clothing torn and soaked in blood. His body covered with scrapes and bruises.

The once humid summer air has started to cool. It crisply lashes at the boy's fragile skin.

Across the room, the stranger sits on the scratchy wool blanket. He casually picks the dried blood from under his fingernail. His mouth distorts his emotionless face into a revolting smile. Slowly his head tilts up. As he looks at the small boy an evil laugh escapes through his twisted lips.

"Didn't you like your surprise, Robbie?" He asks lowly.

The cruel inflection in oily his voice causes goosebumps to raise on Robbie's arms. An involuntary shiver quakes his entire boy. He huddles further into the corner, trying to get as far away from the stranger as he can.

"I want my mommy," Robbie mumbles quietly into his knees.

The stranger stands up from the blanket and glowers at the child. After picking up his t-shirt from the floor, he slips it over his head to hide his ghostly white skin. As he walks to the other side of the room he passes a small lantern. Its interrupted light sends twisting shadows to dance across the wall. Once the figure reaches the far wall, he bends down to a small cabinet and looks at the rainbow of choices inside. Taking a few seconds to contemplate them, he finally picks out a small container.

Robbie never takes his eyes off the figure. As he shifts slightly to keep the stranger in his sight he winces in pain. The cuts and bruises on his back rub against the rough wooden planks of the wall. His muscles contract and throb in pain. Hesitantly he brings his hand up to his face. He feels his swollen eye, still tender from being punched repeatedly.

"If you hadn't fought, I wouldn't have had to hit you," says the looming voice from across the room.

The boy stills and looks away. A warm trickle of blood drips from the cut in his skull. It slowly seeps down his forehead finally stopping as it catches in his eyelash. A sudden noise alerts him to the stranger's approaching form and Robbie turns toward it. The Chuck Taylor shoed foot slides through wood shavings, making a foreboding yet soft scraping noise. Robbie flinches.

"Here."

The small container is thrust toward the young boy as he tries to retreat farther into the corner.

"Come on, take it," the stranger says impatiently. "It will make you feel better. I promise."

Robbie has no reason to trust this person but he takes it anyway. After three punctuating glances at the stranger's unpleasant face, Robbie lifts the small plastic barrel to his lips and takes several sips of the purple liquid. Some of the syrupy grape flavored water sticks to his lips as it unpleasantly slides down his dry throat.

The tears form in his small eyes once again. They wash away the viscous red liquid from the webbing of his eyelashes. A rough hand stops the diluted red tear as it runs down the boy's face. After the stain is wiped away, Robbie turns his frightened eyes to the overpowering individual.

"Don't worry, Robbie. It will all be over soon."

The young boy tilts his head at the figure as everything begins to be cloaked in unfocused light. Robbie squints his eyes trying to focus. The room starts to spin. When the dizziness creeps further into his vision, Robbie leans over to vomit. The larger hand brings the plastic container back up to the boy's lips and tips it back. Once again Robbie swallows the bitterly sweet liquid. As the room continues to spin out of control, Robbie fights the nausea with all his might.

Sounds and sights blur.

The battle for consciousness is futile. Eyelids weigh heavily with drugged sleep. The room tilts and slides sideways. A muffled crack resounds as skull meets floor.

Everything fades to black.

*~~~~~*


	3. Zoo York

**3. Zoo York**

**Central Park – West 100th Street Playground**

**New York, New York**

**Saturday, August 15, 2009 – 9:26 a.m.**

Hundreds of people breeze by without a second look. No one suspects anything of the small garden with newly tilled earth. It rests unobtrusively, bathed in warm August sun on the outskirts of the West 100th Street Playground. All who pass take a moment to comment on the vibrant colors and general splendor then keep walking. It isn't until Adeona, an overly curious Golden Retriever/Labrador mix, jumps into the flowerbed that the truth behind its beauty is revealed.

"Adeona! _Adeona_, get back here!"

Valerie Mactavish chases her dog, trying to grab the leash that has just been yanked from her hand. When the dog pauses, Valerie carefully places one foot in front of the other and creeps toward the spry dog. Just as she closes in, Adeona springs forward leaving her owner in her dust. The young woman sprints down the path after her high-spirited, often mischievous companion. When she finally catches up she sees her dog standing in the middle of a once pristine flowerbed, digging furiously. Valerie groans and hopes no one calls the authorities; she couldn't handle another citation due to her dog's fondness for burrowing in dirt.

"Adeona. Dammit, stop digging!" Frustrated, Valerie leans down and tightly grasps the loop on the end of the bright green leash. "Come on, girl. Let's go home and get some breakfast." She tugs lightly on the leash to ease the dog out of the flowers. "Come on, Ade," she coaxes.

After a few more tugs with no response, the tall redhead takes a few steps toward the stubborn animal. Bending down to grasp her collar, Valerie sees what the dog has unearthed. She screams, stumbling out of the flowerbed and falling backward onto the sidewalk.

Hearing the commotion, a muscular man in orange jogging shorts hurries over to her. He wipes the sweat from his hand on his shorts then offers it to her. "Are you okay?"

"I…I…"

He lifts her from the ground with ease. "What's the matter?" He asks noticing her alarmed face.

Valerie slowly raises her arm and points a trembling finger to the flowerbed. The jogger looks at her, scrunches his face then takes the three steps to where she's pointed. Inside, amongst the bright red and orange flowers and mounds of dark soil lies a small fist. He turns sharply back to the shaking woman.

"Do you have a cell phone?"

She nods her head unsteadily. Slowly she reaches in her pocket and retrieves the requested item. As she hands it to him, her trance-like stare fixes on his eyes. He takes the phone and dials 911. While the phone rings, he paces back and forth in front of the flowerbed.

"Yes, I'd like to report a body. In Central Park by the playground on west 100th street. Bryce Newman. I was just running in the park. Yeah, okay, thanks." The jogger flips the phone shut and hands it back to the woman. "They should be here shortly. You should sit down," he says and gently guides the woman and her dog to a nearby bench.

Twenty minutes later, the area is swarming with city officials. They tape off the perimeter and slowly continue to uncover the small body. Different officers spread throughout the small area to question witnesses. Tension is tight as everyone hopes they find something to put an end to the Central Park Rapist's tyranny.

**Benson Residence**

**Manhattan, New York**

**10:15 a.m.**

Olivia is just about to take a sip of her coffee when the knock at the door causes her to jolt. As she places the mug on her kitchen table she glances at her watch and grumbles. Looking through the peephole she sees the top of his head and lets go of a long sigh.

"I'm taking this isn't a social visit?" She asks as she swings the door open.

"How long do you need to get ready?" Elliot asks as he barges through her front door.

"What happened?" Concern forms on her brow when he doesn't even attempt niceties or apologies for interrupting her on their day off.

"We're needed at Central Park." A large breath is forced from his body.

Her step falters with his words and she quickly pivots toward him. "What happened?" She asks again more urgently.

"Liv…"

"Tell me, Elliot."

"There was a call, came in about twenty minutes ago. Dead body in the park on 100th street."

"Dead body," she replies shakily. "Robbie?"

"Don't know yet." He wants to give her time to adjust to the news but they don't have any. They only have maybe half an hour, tops, before the crime scene is inundated with reporters.

"Give me…ten minutes." Olivia turns her head to him but doesn't afford him the comfort of her eyes. She hides them, keeping them to herself.

**Central Park**

**Manhattan, New York**

**10:42 a.m.**

The car door swings open slowly and she steps into the summer breeze. The strands of her hair are lifted and blown into her eyes. Instead of swiping them away in her usual Olivia fashion, she allows them to flutter across her face. Elliot observes Olivia as she squints her eyes toward the narrow path that will lead them to the crime scene.

A few ticks of the second hand later, Olivia jerks her head slightly to the left then walks away. He's watched her do this countless times in the ten years they've known each other. But for some reason this time seems different. He misses the soft swishing noise of her long leather coat trailing behind her. The leather coat he's always seen as her shield against the ugliness of their job.

"What do we have?" Olivia asks as she walks up to the small crowd of officers. She absently holds her badge out for everyone to see.

"Well, detective, we just started to uncover the body. But from the looks of it, it's your Amber Alert kid." A short officer motions toward the flowers and offers her a look of apology.

Olivia nods her head. Her worst fear has just come true. The Central Park Rapist had finally killed.

"Who found him?" She asks trying not to stare at the flowerbed.

The officer points to the redheaded woman of average build. She's outfitted in black yoga pants, a Hudson University t-shirt and frayed nerves. As she nervously picks at her nail, she looks around the area taking in the flurry of activity. Standing calmly beside her is a large dog whose fur almost matches the color of her owner's hair.

"Valerie Mactavish. Her dog stumbled across the body when she decided to hop in and start digging. Ms. Mactavish is pretty shaken up. Fellow over there," the officer says and motions to the jogger in the orange shorts, "called 911 with her cell."

Both detectives thank the officer then walk in the direction of their witnesses. After a few paces they separate – Olivia directing her attention to Valerie while Elliot heads toward the jogger.

**11:36 a.m.**

On the other side of the police blockade the press buzzes and clicks. With every lead, the press follows meticulously. Like clockwork they arrive at a scene thirty to forty-five minutes after the perimeter is set. This time is no exception. They crowd behind the barrier, wanting to be the first to uncover the secret behind the tape. Wanting to know if what they all prayed would not happen – had. But naturally, more concerned about their ratings, each wanted to be the first to expose the fate of the little boy with the blonde hair and red bathing suit.

Several feet behind the mass of assertive reporters and news crews, two men exit their sedan and stalk furiously toward the blockade. Their serious faces harden at the gathering of vultures who flock to impede their access.

"_Captain Cragen!" _

"_Can you confirm there's a body? _

"_Can you confirm that it's Robbie Baker? _

"_Is this the work of the Central Park Rapist?"_

The questions overlap as they are shouted in Captain Cragen's direction. Microphones are shoved in his face and he tries to push his way through the sea of reporters. Fin does his best to help by blocking the reporters from engulfing his captain.

"Excuse us," he grates through clenched teeth. "Let us through," he barks at a few others.

"No comment," Cragen gruffly says as he squeezes through the group.

When they finally reach the perimeter, Cragen flashes his badge to one of the uniforms guarding the scene. The officer lifts the tape to allow the two men through. Cragen's brisk pace causes his suit jacket to flap in the breeze almost creating a superhero cape-like quality though he felt nothing like one. As the two men continue down the wooded path to the 100th Street Playground, their scowls intensify.

"Who found him?" Cragen barks as he nears the small grouping of people.

Upon hearing her captain's tight tone, Olivia emerges from the center of the group and walks to her boss.

"Valerie Mactavish, sir." She points to the young woman who now sits on a park bench. "She's a grad student at Hudson. She was walking her dog, Adeona. Adeona got free and ran down the path, ending up in this flowerbed. When Valerie finally caught up, she found Adeona in the flowers digging."

"Who's he?" Cragen asks and motions to the jogger in the bright orange shorts.

"Bryce Newman. He happened to be jogging by when Valerie screamed and fell back onto the sidewalk. He helped her up and asked what happened. When she pointed to the flowers he went over to take a closer look. He called it in."

"What else we got?"

"A whole lot of nothing, cap," Elliot says as he walks up. He rips his latex gloves off and shoves them in his pocket. "There's nothing unusual in that flower bed except Robbie. And from the looks of it he took quite a beating. Warner's putting t.o.d. between 10 and 12. Body's on the way to the lab now. She said she'd call when she knew something definitive."

"Was he assaulted?"

Olivia nods her head.

"Fluids?"

"Warner thinks he was wiped down, maybe bathed. She's not sure until she gets him on the table," Elliot responds.

Cragen scans the park. "I'll have Munch notify Mrs. Baker then we'll have her come in to make a positive ID. Let's get back to the house and sort out this mess. I want to catch this s.o.b."

Somehow the information leaks to the press that Robbie Baker was found in the park – dead. Within hours of the first news story, New York City turns into a zoo of activity. The city is a frenzied mess of mothers trying to protect their sons, vigilantes searching for the predator and the press trying to squeeze as much information out of the NYPD as they can. There isn't a moment of rest for anyone in the Special Victims Unit – not that anyone would have requested any. Their perpetrator had finally killed and they were helpless in stopping him again.

**SVU Squad Room**

**Manhattan, New York**

**Saturday, August 15, 2009 – 2:45 p.m.**

"Dammit!" Olivia yells and slams her hand on her desk.

The three detectives jump at the outburst and stare at their colleague. Each has his own questions and speculations for the outburst but none are voiced. Elliot watches helplessly as his partner slowly comes undone in front of them. He's noticed that Olivia seems to have taken on this case like a cause, something that is typically his M.O. when a child is involved. Something about her had changed when their third victim was found. And no one could figure out what it was, not even Elliot.

"Where is this piece of crap? _Who_ is this piece of crap?" She says staring at the crime scene photograph of Robbie Baker. She grabs a handful of photos and starts to spread them across the desk.

"Liv, this isn't your fault."

"How do you know, Elliot? How do you know?" She glares at him through glassy eyes. "What if we hadn't given up last night? Maybe we could have found him."

"Olivia," he says in a disapproving tone.

"Don't '_Olivia'_ me, Elliot."

"Liv, just…let's just wait until we get Warner's report before we draw any unfounded conclusions. Okay? He could have been dead already. He could have been dead Thursday, Liv."

Munch walks up to the table and picks up one of the pictures. "Is this where he was found?" He asks turning toward Olivia.

"Yeah. Why?"

"These look like poppies."

"Okay," Olivia states not seeing how the type of flower would be a significant clue.

"Poppies aren't planted in Central Park this time of year. I'm not even sure if they are planted in Central Park at all," John says matter-of-factly.

"So you think these were intentionally put there? That Robbie was intentionally left in these flowers?"

"Maybe," he shrugs his shoulders then moves toward his chair.

"Why? Is there some kind of significance to poppies? Maybe his favorite flower? His mother's? Sister's? Girlfriend's? _Boyfriend's_?"

John turns his eyes to the ceiling for a few minutes in thought. "In Greek myths, poppies were offerings for the dead. They were often placed on headstones. The myths also say poppies have hypnotic traits and can cause death if one is exposed to them for too long."

Olivia's face distorts in confusion. "What does that mean? Why would the perp place a dead body amongst flowers that could eventually cause death?" She stares at the pictures on the surface of her desk. "Was Robbie not dead before he was buried?"

"I don't know, Liv. I just know what the myths say about the flowers."

"We should contact someone at the Central Park Conservatory. They would know what was planted where and if they planted any poppies this season," Elliot suggests.

"I'm on it," Munch says and leaves the room.

Olivia paces back and forth in front of her desk. She brings a tight fist to her mouth. As the pieces and clues float around in her head, her eyes flutter erratically. Her thoughts are so loud Elliot thinks he can almost hear them.

"Why?" She says into her hand. "Why would he put Robbie in poppies?" Slowly she turns her head to Fin. "Did any of the other victims mention flowers or poppies?"

"Nope," Fin responds. "All they remember is following the stranger into the woods and getting really sleepy then waking up in a hospital bed. Nothing specific. They each gave similar vague accounts of what happened."

"Did they say they could ID the guy?"

"They both initially sat with a sketch artist. But, they are five and six. And their memory was shaky after being unconscious for so long."

"And not one of them had DNA. This guy's smart." Olivia speaks as if she's the only one in the room. Absently she rubs the joint of her thumb along her bottom lip. Suddenly she starts arranging the photographs on her desk again. "What are the similarities between them?"

Fin walks over to the large computer and starts to type in information. "First victim, Christopher Parville. Five-years-old." A photograph of a young boy with freckles and brown hair pops up on the monitor. "Disappeared at the West 110th Street Playground on July 29th. He wandered off when his mother was talking to a friend on a nearby bench. Was missing for about six hours."

"Where did they find him?" Olivia asks, staring at the monitor.

"They found him, beaten and unconscious by the pool between west 100th and 103rd." Fin types in the coordinates and two small markers appear on a map with Christopher's name. "Next, Joseph Banks. Age six. Disappeared from the Robert Bendheim Playground on east 100th street on August 6th." He starts to type again and a small boy with black hair and bright blue eyes appears on the screen.

"How long was he missing?"

"Approximately six hours."

"And they found him where?" Olivia questions hoping the answer will give them a clue to the perp's identity.

"By the North Park Recreation Center, which is mid-park around 97th street. Also beaten and unconscious." Fin once again types in coordinates as Joseph's name appears on the screen with two small markers. "Victim three, Henry Wyatt, six-years-old. August 10th disappearance." Once again a picture of a boy appears on the screen. The little blond haired boy smiles out at the detectives. "He was last scene at the Rudin Family Playground on west 96th. And he was found somewhere in the North Meadow by the edge of a baseball field between 97th and 102nd. Again missing for around six hours. Each kid disappeared while his mother was distracted by someone else."

"Any news on Henry?" Olivia asks.

"Vitals are still strong. Still no improvement but things also aren't gettin' worse."

Olivia nods her head then redirects her brain to the case. "So they were all taken and left in the north part of the park. Familiarity? Opportunity? There are plenty of other playgrounds in the park. Why the north end?"

"Maybe topography," Elliot suggests as he leans forward in his chair. "All the other parts of the park are pretty populated. If you think about it, the north end is the most spread out, isn't it?"

Slowly he gets up and walks to the monitor. As he pokes his finger on the monitor, the other detectives stand next to him to look at the colorful dots peppering the screen.

"Robbie was taken by the Ravine on his way to the West 100th Street Playground," he continues and types in the coordinates. Robbie's name appears next to each one. "No two places are the same. How is he picking them?"

"Do you think it's significant that Robbie was found near his intended destination?" Olivia asks.

"Fin? Did the boys have any connections to the locations they were found?" Elliot asks turning.

Fin shakes his head. "They didn't mention it. Neither did the parents. The only consistencies seem to be is that he kept them for around six hours, he leaves them in places where they'll be found, and they are all taken and left in the north part of the park."

"And there are no physical similarities between them except that they are boys. There's no connection between the boys. And we still don't know how the perp is luring the boys away," Olivia interrupts.

"The boys wouldn't say why they followed the stranger into the woods," Fin says with a sigh. "We've got nothing."

"What _did_ they say, Fin?" Olivia turns her tragic eyes to him.

"That they couldn't remember what happened."

"Concussion maybe? What did the tox screen say?"

"Docs say the memory loss could be from a concussion. They were both beaten pretty badly. Tox screens were negative on all three for any of the serious drugs."

"Dammit." Olivia paces in front of the monitors.

"Wait, Fin, you said Henry was found by the ball fields?" Elliot asks as his eyes widen with a memory.

"Uh, yeah," Fin responds skimming the information scrawled in his notebook. "Why?"

"Henry was found on the 10th."

"And?" Olivia asks, confused by her partner's excitement.

"It's something Robbie's mother said to me. She mentioned they were watching a baseball game earlier in the week."

"So you think the perp saw him there? Maybe even met him?" Olivia's eyes grow large.

"If he did, he could have lured him from the path that way," Elliot suggests – excited at the possible lead he may have just uncovered.

"El, did she say if she saw Robbie talking to anyone?" Olivia asks excitedly.

Elliot thinks back to the conversation with the hysterical woman. "No. She didn't mention it."

"I'll go talk to her again," Fin says and rushes away.

They watch Fin as he quickly jogs out of the bullpen. After a few moments, Elliot turns to Olivia with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"We aren't going to get anything from the previous three vics, Liv."

"I know," she replies sadly. "And the only clue we have for Robbie, until we hear from Warner, is the flowerbed." Olivia paces the space between the desks, frustrated.

"Shall we?" Elliot asks.

With a shrug of her shoulders, Olivia leads the way to the elevator.

**Central Park – West 100th Street Playground**

**New York, New York**

**Saturday, August 15, 2009 – 4:08 p.m.**

Olivia kneels beside the flowerbed and scoops up some of the soil. As it filters through her fingers, she breathes in the earthy scent. This is Robbie's final resting place. When the last of dirt falls to the ground she tightens her hand into a fist. She pounds it into the spongy ground and curses. The word echoes through the woods, bouncing off trees and carrying higher into the sky.

"Liv," Elliot says and hesitantly places his hand on her shoulder.

His mere presence is enough to hold the fast crumbling pieces together. But the soft touch and concern in his voice breaks her. Not a words escapes as her shoulders start to shake. Neither moves from their position until her body stills several minutes later.

"I should…I should have stopped this. Maybe if…if I hadn't -"

"Olivia, this isn't your fault." Elliot crouches next to her and speaks to her profile. "Nothing would have changed even if you had been at work earlier in the week. This guy isn't going to stop."

"But I should have been able to find him. I should have stopped him. It's my damn job, Elliot."

"Why is this one different?" He has wanted to ask her this question for days. From the moment he saw her after the first visit to Henry's hospital room. It was at that moment he saw the light in her eyes dull.

"I don't know."

"Is it because Henry's in a coma? Because his mother is an alcoholic?"

"I don't know, El."

"Liv…" He looks at his belt when it starts shaking vigorously. He tightens his lips at the interruption then turns back to his partner. "Olivia -" The offending item's dance starts again.

"You should answer that," she says indifferently. "Could be Cragen."

"Stabler," he huffs in the phone's mouthpiece. He slowly straightens to a standing position. "They're sure? Okay. Can you get some uniforms down her to block off the scene? Okay. Thanks, John." Elliot stares at the face of his phone until the screen goes black.

"What did he say?" Olivia asks quietly.

"He talked to the people at the CPC. They don't have any records of planting poppies this month."

"Okay. So the perp planted them."

"Liv," he says lowly.

"What?"

"They don't have any records of a flowerbed being here."

Her surprised eyes turn to him. "He…he made his own flowerbed? Why?"

"This spot must mean something to him."

"Crap." Olivia rubs her head as her brain spins with information. "What does this mean?"

"Cragen's holding a press conference. But he's withholding the fact that the flowers are poppies and that the perp created this flowerbed. I have John sending some uniforms so we can seal the scene and get these flowers covered."

They stand shoulder to shoulder, staring at the flowerbed until they hear approaching footsteps. Two uniformed officers stroll up to the detectives.

"Officer Doyle and Officer Browning," the taller, darker man says and extends his hands to them.

"Stabler. Benson," Elliot says and motions toward Olivia.

"What do you need us to do, detective?" Officer Doyle asks.

"We need you to seal this scene tight. We don't want the press to have any access whatsoever," Elliot responds.

"Yes sir," Officer Browning answers.

The four stand for a few more minutes before Elliot turns to Olivia.

"Come on, Liv. Let me take you home."

Not having enough fight in her to argue, Olivia nods her head and follows him back down the path.

**Benson Residence**

**Manhattan, New York**

**Saturday, August 15, 2009 – 5:58 p.m.**

"Olivia, you should eat something." He pauses his hand halfway between the table and his mouth to give her a stern look.

"I'm not hungry."

"I went to all this trouble of making you dinner and you're not going to eat it?" He says in a disbelieving tone.

She smirks at him. "I don't know if picking up a phone can count as making someone dinner. But nice try." Her sarcastic look evaporates his guilt trip.

"Well, you should still eat something," he says finally lifting the fork to his mouth.

"I told you, I'm not hungry."

"You're not helping anyone by starving yourself," he says watching his fork as it scoops up some pasta.

"I'm not -"

"Just eat a little. For the boys." He eyes her seriously.

"Low blow," she says and narrows her eyes at him. As she lifts a piece of bread to her mouth, Elliot puffs his chest out. "What are you so proud of?"

"Got you to eat, didn't I?" He smiles at her and takes a bite of pasta.

"Jerk," she mumbles into the crust.

After suffering through each dry bite of bread, Olivia rises from the table and stumbles to the couch.

"You never answered my question," Elliot grunts as he slides onto the seat next to her.

"I know."

"Why won't you answer it?"

"Because I told you. I don't know."

Giving her a few moments to collect her thoughts he waits. He clasps his hands and taps his thumbs together.

"Olivia."

"You saw his medical reports," she says to her hands. "That's a lot of healed bones, even for a six-year-old boy." Her eyes shift farther away from him as she tries to dam her emotions inside. "Then…then the mother came in. And she was -"

"Olivia," he interrupts. "He's not you. And you're not him."

"Don't start with me, Elliot. I know that. I know that you don't think I should carry around these ghosts forever or compare myself to the vics. I know."

The quivering in her chin compels her to turn her head away from him again. He's already witnessed two weak moments in the last two days. Two too many.

"I don't think you're weak."

His words crush her resolve to a fine powder. It blows away as the sobs escape from her mouth. He ropes her to him, holding her tight as she cries. At first she doesn't even realize he's doing it. But with each circular motion on her back, it calms her – eventually almost putting her to sleep.

"Liv?" He asks into her temple when her breaths start to even out.

"Hmm?"

"Thought you fell asleep."

"No. Still here," she says softly. She smiles against his chest when he resumes his motions. "El?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. This is strangely just what I needed."

He smiles into her hair and squeezes her tightly. It's not a normal gesture for them but he finds it comforting. Just like he can't help but find comfort in the feel of her in his arms. His head questions this new revelation his heart makes.

"Well, I should let you get some sleep."

"Okay," she responds through a yawn.

As she walks him to the door his pounding heart makes a decision without consulting his brain. Once she reaches the door she turns to say something but his mouth on hers interrupts the flow of words. The moment he touches her soft full lips they tense, sending their rigidity throughout her entire body. She plants her hands on his chest and shoves him harshly away.

"What the…Elliot, what was that?" she asks breathlessly.

"Uh…uh…" he stammers. His shocked eyes lift to hers. He blinks furiously trying to flicker back on the last few moments.

Hadn't she just cried on his shoulder? Hadn't she just leaned on him? Hadn't she just let him hold her? Hadn't she just told him he was what she needed?

'_Yes. Out of devastation, you *idiot*. She was upset,' _his brain answers.

As he realizes this he brings his hand up to rub his eyes. "Liv, I'm…I'm -"

"Save it, Elliot," she says looking at him angrily. Her nose flares as she breathes hard and tries to calm herself. She opens her mouth to yell at him but stops and visibly deflates. "Just…just please leave," her weak voice utters moments later.

As she looks at him, he sees the fire extinguish in her eyes.

"Liv, please, I'm sorry, I just -"

"It's fine," she says through a deep breath. "I'll…I'll just see you later."

She turns away and walks toward her bedroom. Her steps are heavy, weighed not in anger or sadness but disappointment.

He hadn't expected this reaction from Olivia. If anything he was expecting either complete acceptance or complete anger. Not evasion and not disillusionment. He saw it in her eyes. She thinks he took advantage of the situation.

He hates that she thinks he only kissed her to lessen the pain of today's events. He hates that she thinks he was trying to take advantage of her.

Never willing to leave well enough alone, he stalks back to living room and plants himself in the chair facing her bedroom. He waits for her to come back out and for her to realize the truths behind the action. He waits for another chance.

What seems like hours later, but was really only about forty-five minutes, the bedroom door swings open. Only the movement of the displaced air makes a sound as Olivia steps through the door. She walks toward the living room with fervor. Each step she takes is carefully monitored. As she takes the last few steps to the end of the couch she looks up and stops. The atmosphere around her startled by what she sees.

"Elliot." Her head jerks slightly and her eyes widen. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting."

"Waiting?" She asks in a confused voice. "Waiting for what?"

He can sense the low level of hostility she still holds for him in her voice. Taking a deep breath he tries to recall his scripted justifications. "I want to explain."

Her eyes slip shut and her jaw tightens. "Elliot," she sighs.

"No. I need to explain, Olivia."

"And what if I never came out? What if I had stayed in there for the rest of the night?"

"Then I would have waited."

"Why? Why is this so impor-"

"Olivia." The softness in his voice as it passes through his lips causes her to freeze. "I didn't do it to take advantage – of you or your emotional state. I didn't do it because you were upset. I did it…I did it…because…because –"

He had been sitting here for forty-five minutes. He had sat in silence formulating a plan, a speech. The speech was all worked out, every last detail, every last word, every last breath. But now, he tripped and stumbled over himself. This is not the way he had wanted to tell her. This is not how he had envisioned it. She deserved better. She deserved more than what he was offering.

"Elliot?" She asks confused by the abrupt lack of words.

He had waited forty-five minutes for this moment. Actually, if he really stopped to think about it, it was more like three years, four months, twenty-nine days, fifty- six minutes and fourteen seconds that he had waited for this moment. Ever since the day she stepped back into his life after being gone for months. The Masoner case.

"Liv." He turns his head to hers and offers a lifetime of apologies. "I'm just…I'm sorry if you think I acted inappropriately. And I'm sorry that you think I did what I did for whatever reason you think I did it."

The tiny deepened wrinkle in between her eyes creases. She turns her _'Elliot you're acting insane' _stare to him. The look almost makes him laugh.

For as much as they think they know each other and their movements and thoughts, they really have no clue. At least not anymore. He can't even pinpoint when they'd lost that ability.

Maybe they never had it to begin with, maybe they had just imagined it, maybe they just convinced themselves it was there – to convince themselves they were special. Maybe it wasn't even them, maybe it was everyone else projecting the pure and simple attraction they had for each other into a more appropriate connection. Maybe it was his freedom – the divorce.

The maybes swarm around him, attacking him at every exposed piece of skin – at every morsel of doubt he wore on his weakening armor.

"Then why did you do it?" She asks him directly.

"I…I…I'm sorry Liv. I am."

He gets up from his seat and stares down at her. As she watches him walk toward the door her astonishment forces her eyelids apart. She propels herself forward and grabs him firmly by the arm.

"Elliot?" Her eyes remain ripped open as she wrinkles her brow.

The brown he'd come to compare all others to paces from side to side causing a beautiful frenzy of activity on her face. He'd always loved when she did that – loved that she read faces like she would read a report or a book. Her eyes flow from side to side, working their way down. Never stilling until she understood exactly what was lying beneath the expressions.

He's not sure what she reads in his expression. But he could tell she either didn't like it or didn't understand it because her eyes continued their frantic journey across and down his face.

"Good night, Liv." He places his hand gently over hers and removes it from his arm. Without another word he walks slowly to the door.

She doesn't move a muscle when the door creaks as he shuts it behind him. She's not even sure how long she stands in that spot. All she can remember is finally crumbling to the floor and staying huddled there all night.

*~~~~~*


End file.
